


Alone, But Together

by OnaDacora



Series: Halla and the Serpent: Lavellan and Dorian Friendship [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, M/M, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnaDacora/pseuds/OnaDacora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something of a continuation of ‘Trespasser: Alone’ which is the aftermath of the Trespasser DLC with a Lavellan that romanced Solas and a Dorian that was with a Qun!Bull. Because I have a lot of feels about their friendship.<br/>----<br/>Talia Lavellan has lost Solas twice now, and Dorian lost his lover the Iron Bull. Talia goes with Dorian to Minrathous, so they can support one another during the fallout of these two betrayals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Nightmares

They had been in Minrathous for a week. Coming home and the work it entailed had kept Dorian well distracted for the most part, but now things were beginning to slow. Lavellan was occupied as well, which was good, in his opinion. The elven servants (no slaves, never again) fawned over her, especially as she made a point to learn all their names and ask questions about their families. Much to his embarrassment, after just a couple days she seemed to know them better than he did. 

But Lavellan had always been like that. She was kind and trusting (still, after everything, which was baffling and endearing all at once) and made friends as easily as breathing. Dorian was certain that it was these things that had broken through to Solas in the first place. He had always seemed to keep the rest of them at a distance (well, he understood why in hindsight,  _the bastard_ ) but never her.

If Dorian didn’t know her better he would think she had an ulterior motive to getting close to the elven servants. Testing them to check their allegiances perhaps, or making sure they were _her_  allies before Solas or any of his agents got to them. Or maybe even hoping that they _were_  Solas’s, and she might somehow use them to get closer to her lost wolf. But those were things  _Dorian_  would think of doing, not her.

The only thing that worried him, lately, in regard to her was that when she joined him for breakfast she always looked so  _tired_. Every morning he asked her what was wrong, and she would just give him a polite smile and say, “Just a dream, Dorian, I’m fine.”

He was plagued with his own nightmares, but he suspected she wasn’t being entirely honest. 

He was tossing and turning in bed, and had been so for at least the past hour. Before that he had been reading by candle light, hoping to ease his mind before attempting to sleep. Instead of politics and fellow Magisters consuming his thoughts as he lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, the Iron Bull came skulking into his mind, unbidden.

“Nothing personal…  _Bas_.”

For a split second he could smell the scent of charred flesh, feel the smooth staff in his hands, the raw burn in his throat from screaming at Bull through his tears, begging him to stop. The bright white of the fletching on Lavellan’s arrows against Bull’s dark skin, Cole darting in and out of the shadows, both of them just fighting to stay alive. The Iron Bull, dead.

“I didn’t feel it. There wasn’t any pain,” came Cole’s voice, quiet and sad.

His eyes flew open and he rolled onto his back, releasing a shuddering sigh. “ _Vishante kaffas_ ,” he breathed, draping an arm over his eyes. 

This wasn’t going to work.

Dorian rubbed the beginnings of tears from his eyes, pushing himself out of bed and pulling on a thin dressing gown. He needed to talk to someone.  _No, don’t kid yourself, Dorian. You just don’t want to be alone, and she’s the only one that will understand_. Hesitating at the door to his bedroom, he convinced himself that surely she hadn’t been sleeping well either, so chances were he wouldn’t be disturbing her too much.

The house was quiet as he padded down the hall that led to Lavellan’s room. His footsteps slowed as he neared her door, and he suddenly felt very foolish. Like a child woken by a nightmare, asking to sleep with his parents but afraid of being turned away. What was he doing?

He grimaced and was about to turn away when he heard a cry on the other side of the door. He waited, making sure he hadn’t misheard. Another cry, and his hand found the doorknob without thinking.

* * *

She felt him more than she saw him, the wolf between the trees in the corner of her eye.

She was lost in the forest, alone. Everyone had left her, broken and defeated.

He would leave if she cried out for him, reached for him, but she had to try. Every night she would try to make him see that she still longed for him, no matter what. That she could forgive him if he gave her the chance.

“Solas!” Lavellan’s head twisted to try and catch the wolf’s eye, but he was always too quick, barely there and then gone.

The trees began to melt away, the red leaves running thick like blood.

“ _Ar lath ma, vhenan,”_  she begged. “Please come back to me.”

A mournful howl echoed all around her as the world blurred into darkness.

“Wake up!”

Lavellan’s eyes flew open to see Dorian hovering over her, his hand on her shoulder. He pulled away as she sat up, feeling disoriented as she tried to remember where she was.  _Minrathous, with Dorian. I’m not alone._

 _“_ I knew you weren’t telling me the truth,” he said, frowning at her. “’Just a dream, I’m fine,’ she says.”

Dorian took a seat on the bed, leaning in close and searching her face. She didn’t move as he reached out and cupped her jaw with his hand, running his thumb along her cheekbone.

“You’re crying,” he said.

She tried to reach up with both hands to wipe her face but came up short. She cringed and let what remained of her left arm fall back to her side, making due with her right hand. Dorian didn’t move, and she didn’t pull away.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, not unkindly.

“I heard you crying out. I thought it best to wake you.”

Lavellan reached up and took hold of his wrist. “Thank you, but… your room is on the other end of the hall.”

Dorian let his hand fall away from her face, resting on the bed between them. She covered it with her own, curling her fingers under his palm. He looked away, embarrassed for some reason.

“Maker, this is…” he sighed, shaking his head. “I feel quite the fool, I’ll have you know.”

“Dorian?”

“ _I couldn’t sleep._  I couldn’t…” His brow furrowed and he pressed his free hand to his eyes. “I keep hearing his voice. I keep seeing him die.”

He sighed again, looking back to her. Her gaze held his, and the understanding he found there reminded him why he had come to her room in the first place. Part of him felt embarrassed for needing her company, yes, but another part knew that she would never think him foolish for it. She had always been there for him. Dorian suddenly felt guilty for feeling glad that Solas had not taken her back and spirited her away with him.

Lavellan squeezed his hand. He didn’t want to be alone, which was exactly how she felt. “I came with you because I didn’t want to be alone, and you brought me for the same reason.”

His face relaxed, relieved to not have to be the one to admit it. “Yes,” he said quietly.

“Then don’t be alone. Stay.”

Dorian hesitated, but she gave a slight tug on his hand, scooting away to give him more room. “Now, Lavellan, you know better by now,” he joked halfheartedly.

She didn’t answer, just gave his hand another insistent tug. He gave an exaggerated, long-suffering sigh before crawling under the covers and laying down beside her. Dorian was on his side, facing her, and she scooted back to him. With an ease that surprised him, she put her right arm over him and pressed herself close, her head against his chest and under his chin.

Dorian shifted a little awkwardly, wedging one arm under the pillows and holding her with the other. It was odd, at first. He wasn’t sure quite what to do with himself, being the larger of the two of them (he had grown used to being the smaller one, when sharing a bed). But the fact that it was so different, so unique to  _her_  was more comforting than he expected.

“Is this all right?” he asked her, brushing his knuckles along her back.

She smiled at the uncertainty in his voice. “Right now, this is perfect.”

“Thank you for not…  _laughing_  at me.”

Her fingers pressed against his back. “Why would I laugh at you?”

“For creeping to your bedroom like a frightened child,” he admitted.

Lavellan hesitated, shifting slightly with her knees pressed against his. He curled his foot around hers and pulled her leg between his, their knees stacked together but thighs still separate. He felt her body relax again.

“I almost did the same thing last night, but I lost my nerve halfway down the hall when Mhyra caught me. I lied and told her I needed to use the privy,” she said.

Dorian laughed. “You have my permission to come to my room any time, if you need me, my friend. No need to lie to the servants.”

“They might talk.”

“Oh please, they’re servants, they’re already talking.” He nudged her head with his chin. “The second we walked through the door together they decided we’d had a whirlwind romance and I’d whisked you away once the Inquisition was disbanded.”

“There are worse things.”

“Yes. But I’m glad that you came with me. That at least we’re together.”


	2. Of Magisters

The wolf didn’t return in her dreams again that night. Instead, she was nestled in the black coils of a large serpent, safe and warm and content.

The next day she was more rested than she had been in weeks --since before the Mark had started acting up, if she was being honest with herself. Feeling overconfident, she declined Dorian’s offer to share his room that night when he asked her over dinner.

Halfway through the night she found herself at his door, knocking timidly.

Looking tired yet frustratingly smug, he ushered her inside. “You’d think you would have learned by now that I’m  _always_  right.”

“How could I have forgotten?” she said, giving him a weak smile. “Though it looks like you haven’t fared much better than me.”

“Yes, but I wasn’t going to be the first to admit defeat, Lavellan.” This mischief in his eyes faded quickly and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Though to be perfectly honest, I’m exhausted and glad you’re here.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you don’t have to do this for me.”

Dorian gave a soft chuckle. “Last night was the first time I’ve had a decent night’s sleep since the Winter Palace. I am irredeemably selfish, now get in bed so I can get some sleep.”

* * *

 

Dorian woke just before dawn. He’d had a strange dream, but the only thing he could remember was a white halla with blood dripping down its twisting antlers. It stood over him, guarding him.

Lavellan was curled against his back, her right arm over his side and her forehead tucked against his shoulder. Her pale hand dangled limply. He covered her arm with his, bringing it to his chest for safekeeping. Her fingers were cold.

He knew that it should have been strange, waking up with a woman in his bed. He never thought it would happen, at least not willingly. But Lavellan was different. She’d  _always_  been different. Impossibly, she had trusted him from the very beginning despite him being from Tevinter. That trust had only grown when they were thrown into the future together. She had never once backed away from his side, and she had given him the strength to return to Tevinter two years ago.

Now she was helping pick up his shattered pieces, just as he was helping with hers. In another world, under different circumstances, it might have been romantic.

Lavellan’s fingers twitched. She let out a soft groan and shifted slightly, pressing in closer to him.

“Are you awake?” he whispered.

“No,” she grumbled, shaking her head against his back and tightening her grip on him.

“My mistake then.”

She let him go as a sigh escaped her, rolling away and onto her back. He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on an elbow. Her brow was furrowed, eyes studying the canopy of the bed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I feel like...” she shook her head. “It’s silly.”

“Too silly to tell me? Come now, I think we’ve progressed past the point of anything being  _too_  silly.”

She turned away from the canopy, looking at him. “I feel like I’m using you to hide from Solas. Before, there was always this wolf in my dreams, just barely out of sight. I could never get close. But when I’m with you, he’s not there.”

He frowned. “Do you think it’s really Solas? With everything we know now, I wouldn’t doubt it if you told me you thought so.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s really him, or if it’s just my mind tormenting me,” she sighed. “But if it  _is_  him, shouldn’t I be encouraging it? Trying to talk to him...”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you need rest, too. At the moment I’m more concerned about you than him. Give yourself some time to recover from everything that’s happened.”

“But--”

“No. You know that Leliana has people working on trying to find him, and our allies are doing their best. The world  _isn’t_  riding on your shoulders anymore.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Dorian sighed, pursing his lips. “Always the martyr.”

He glanced over her towards the window, where the sky was brightening as dawn broke. He grumbled slightly. “Speaking of martyrdom, I have a meeting with the Magisterium today. They seem to delight in meeting disgustingly early, so I have to get ready shortly. You’re welcome to stay here, if you want to try and get more sleep.”

“No, I’ll get up too. Will you be gone long?”

“That entirely depends on how long they wish to prattle on. I suspect they will have a full day planned just to torment me.”

* * *

 

He was back by lunchtime.

Lavellan was sharing a meal with Mhyra when they heard the front door burst open, banging loudly against the wall and then slam shut again.

“ _Venhedis_!”

The two women shared a look before Lavellan rushed from the table. Dorian was fuming in the hall, the crackle of energy and the smell of ozone filling the air around him. His back was to her, his shoulders hunched as he leaned with his hands pressed against the door. The wood around his fingers was starting to blacken.

“Dorian, what’s wrong?” she asked him, static sparking against her skin as she reached out and timidly touched his shoulder.

His hands clenched into fists and the magic in the air started to fade. Slowly, he turned to face her, letting out a slow, steadying breath. The flesh around his left eye was swollen and purple, a smear of blood already dry on his cheek.

Lavellan gasped. “What happened to you?”

“This is nothing. Magister Adrius fared far worse, I can assure you,” he said, his voice a restrained growl. “I’m fairly certain I broke his nose. At least I hope I did.”

“You...” she paused, eyes wide. “You got into a fistfight with one of the other Magisters?”

“Obviously. He’s lucky Maevaris stopped me.”

“What-- what did he do?”

Dorian shook his head, scowling. “Don’t worry about it.” He tried to walk past her but she didn’t move. His jaw clenched under her firm gaze. “There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Dorian...”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Lavellan!” he snapped.

Hurt, she stepped out of his way as he brushed past. Mhyra was standing attentively in the doorway that led to the kitchen. Dorian paused when he saw her.

“Bring me something for this blighted eye,” he told her, anger slightly subdued as he spoke to her. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Of course, Lord Pavus,” she said.

Dorian turned and went up the stairs, purposefully staring at the floor to avoid looking at Lavellan; or so it seemed to her. A moment after he disappeared up the stairs, she heard a door slam, making her flinch.

Mhyra appeared at her elbow, a damp, warm cloth in her hand and an herbal poultice. She recognized the smell of elfroot immediately. The servant pressed them into Lavellan’s hand.

“You should go to him,” she said.

“But he asked you,” Lavellan said, uncertain.

Mhyra was shaking her head. “But he doesn’t need  _me_. I’m not exactly certain what your relationship is with Lord Pavus, but I do know that during the two years he spent here he spoke of you often and very fondly. There was only one person whose letters seemed to cheer him more than yours, and he has refused to speak of him since his return.

“You know him, my lady. Better than I do, I suspect.”

Of course she did. “I... thank you Mhyra,” she said.

The servant just gave her a calm, knowing smile, nodding before returning to the kitchen.

* * *

 

She found him sitting on the edge of his bed, bent over something he had clutched to his chest. A leather cord was wrapped around his knuckles. Dorian glanced up when she entered the room, his eyes glassy. They didn’t speak. His jaw clenched as she sat on the bed beside him and pressed the cloth and poultice over his eye.

Dorian covered her hand with his, then nudged her arm away so he could hold the poultice himself. He reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his free arm around her tightly as a strangled noise was bit back in his throat. She hugged him back as best she could.

Lavellan waited for his shaking to stop, for him to collect himself again.

He took a shuddering breath. “They knew--” He had to stop to clear his throat. “They knew about the Iron Bull. I should have expected it, the whole Winter Palace knew. Most of their comments were subtle enough, but Adrius just had this smug sneer on his damned face...”

“I’m sorry.”

Dorian sighed, pulling back and shaking his head. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, I didn’t want to break down in front of Mhyra.”

“It’s all right.”

“ _No_ , it’s not. You didn’t deserve that.”

She reached out for his clenched fist, pulling gently on his fingers to reveal what he was holding. It was a necklace. The leather cord was wrapped around half a dragon’s tooth. She realized that it looked familiar, that she had regularly seen an identical necklace around the Iron Bull’s neck.

“The tooth is from the first dragon we killed. The Ferelden Frostback,” Dorian said sadly.

“I had no idea. I never saw him take it,” she said, turning the tooth over in his hand.

Dorian shook the leather cord from around his fingers. “You and Solas were too busy discussing which parts to have Harding and the scouts bundle up to ship back to Skyhold.”

Lavellan ran her fingers delicately over the edge of the tooth. Then, after a moment of silence, she reached into the front of her shirt and pulled out her own leather cord. Dorian watched as she tugged free a familiar object: the wolf-jaw pendant that Solas always used to wear.

“He gave that to you?”

“He took my arm and left me this,” she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.

“He should have stayed with you.”

“Yes. And the Iron Bull should never have betrayed you.”

“Yes,” he sighed. “One of the few things we have in common.”

Lavellan raised an eyebrow. “What else do we have in common?”

“Our lovers had terrible taste in jewelry.”


	3. Of Books

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t plan on this going for as long as it has, so I’m going to start using a first name for her starting with this chapter. Referring to her just as ‘Lavellan’ is getting a little old.

Dorian’s study was modest but well-stocked. Talia Lavellan ran her fingers over the spines of his books, searching for something that might catch her interest. Dorian was poring over a small stack of letters at his desk, grumbling occasionally and scratching at some parchment with a gold dip-pen. It had been a few days since the incident with Magister Adrius and Dorian’s black eye had faded to hardly more than a shadow. Since then, he’d been handling most of his correspondence with the other Magisters via letter rather than in person. (”At least for the time being,” he said. “They won’t be rid of me for long, of  _that_  I can assure you.”)

Talia stopped when her gaze fell upon a familiar title among the shelves. “You have a copy of  _The Tale of the Champion_?” she blurted out.

“Varric  _insisted_  I take a copy with me before I left last time,” Dorian said, not looking up from his writing. “Which reminds me, he gave me two copies of  _our_  little tale. One of them is yours. They should be over in the window seat.”

She found them where he said they were, two pristine books with beautiful blue covers. A smile broke over her face at the title:  _All This Shit is Weird._  Of course. The leather creaked under her fingers as she opened the front cover, where she found a note from Varric.

_Your Inquisitorialness,_

_Here’s to us, for getting through all this crazy shit. I know that there were some bad times, especially for you, but I hope you can look back on all this and remember all the good, too._

_I bookmarked our game of Wicked Grace if you want a good laugh._

_Your favorite dwarf,_

_Varric_

_PS: Don’t forget to come visit me in Kirkwall. I’ve got some friends who’d love to meet you, and I’ll make sure you have a good time. We can try out that key I gave you._

She could practically hear his voice, as if he were standing there with her. Her chest ached from missing him, and was startled to find herself blinking back tears. She wondered when she would stop feeling so fragile all the time.

“Probably not the best time to read this quite yet,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Agreed,” he said with a sigh. “Considering what he wrote about the relationships of his friends in Kirkwall, I just know he had some choice details to include regarding our own misadventures in regards to our love lives.”

Talia picked up the books from the window seat and took them over to the bookcase that held  _The Tale of the Champion_ , finding a temporary home for them while she snatched up Varric’s book about Hawke instead. She had read it before, but at the moment she decided that old and familiar was best. Settling herself in the window seat with a few squashy pillows, she propped the book up against her legs and flipped through the pages.

“Not going to start at the beginning?” Dorian asked, looking up from his work.

“I’ve read it a few times already, I’m looking for my favorite parts,” she said. “Don’t let me distract you from your work.”

“You must love not being the one hounded with letters and missives anymore,” he grumbled.

“ _Magister_  Pavus, are you  _jealous_  of me?” she asked, fighting to hide her grin.

“Only of your leisure time. Your work has ended, and mine is just beginning.” He paused, reconsidering. “Not ended, exactly. Just… lessened. No Inquisition to oversee, I should say.”

“I’m sure more work will find me soon enough,” she said with a sigh. “And you should stop letting me distract you from  _yours_.”

Dorian grumbled, but returned to whatever he was writing. The scratch of his pen filled the comfortable silence of the study, and Talia returned her attention to her book. She found the part where Fenris and Hawke had rekindled their relationship three years after their first night together.

Talia had actually asked Hawke about that.

“Did it really take him three years to go back to you? It seems almost as strange as what happened with Orsino…”

Hawke laughed at that, rolling her eyes. “ _No_ , more like three  _months_. Varric insisted on changing it. _Pacing_  he said. Something about how he set up the time-jumps in the book.”

“Oh good, I’m glad. I just couldn’t imagine–” Talia cut herself off, catching herself before she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry, it just used to bother me. I would argue with one of my friends back home about it. She insisted it was  _romantic_  and I said there was  _no way_ , and… and I’m doing it again. _Creators_.”

Talia buried her face in her hands, blushing furiously.

“Inquisitor, I had no idea you were such a  _fan_ ,” Varric said, chuckling to himself.

Back in Dorian’s study, she found herself briefly wondering what details of her relationship with Solas Varric might have taken his own liberties with. She was certain that Solas hadn’t told the dwarf anything, and Talia had only provided the barest of details in idle conversation. And after Solas had left… there hadn’t been much she wanted to say on the matter.

 _Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you._ Her fingers brushed over the words, a line that Fenris would repeat later during the fighting near the end of the book. Her heart ached.  _I never wanted to understand this,_  she thought.

Talia flipped back to the title page and started to read from the beginning.

* * *

When she had joined the Inqusition –somewhat unwillingly– she hadn’t been able to read. She realized as more duties were thrust upon her (as well as letters and reports from Josephine) that she might need to actually learn how. Talia was too embarrassed to admit it to Josephine, Cassandra, or the others, suspecting it would lessen their opinion of her and her Dalish upbringing. As a hunter for Clan Lavellan, she hadn’t bothered to learn much more than her letters. If pressed she could sometimes sound out simpler words, but her skill was less than rudimentary at best.

They were still at Haven, still arguing over Templars and Mages and how best to close the Breach, when she finally admitted to Solas that she needed help.

“You can’t read?” he echoed back to her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I thought you told Varric just the other day that you’d read his book.”

“My friend read it to me. She’s the Keeper’s First, so she’s always reading one thing or another.”

“I see.”

“Please, I was hoping you could help me. There’s only so many times I can lie to Josephine. Whenever she has something for me to look over I pretend like I’m too busy and ask her to sum it up for me,” Talia pleaded, beseeching him with her eyes.

“I’m… flattered that you trusted me with this,” Solas said, his eyes crinkling slightly with a smile. “But I’m afraid I don’t tend to carry much to read with me on my travels.”

Talia pulled a book out of the bag she carried with her. The red leather was old and worn. “I borrowed this from Varric.”

“ _The Tale of the Champion_ , of course he’d have a copy on his person.” He shook his head, amused.

“I hope this is okay. I already know the story, so I thought it might be easier to figure out the words.”

“This is fine. Varric’s writing is rather simple compared to other work, so this should be a good place to start.”

Whenever they had free time at Haven, Talia would spend it with Solas, reading to him. When she would stumble over a word he would patiently guide her through the sounds. They would sit together cross-legged on his small cot, facing each other with the book between them. He had no problems reading it upside down.

“Oh-ohsten…ohstentat…” Talia huffed, shaking her head. “Solas, I don’t know what this is.”

“Ostentatious,” he said, emphasizing the ‘ah’ sound at the start of the word. “Not quite pronounced how it looks.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even know what that  _means_.”

“Generally it means something vulgar and flashy.”

“Oh, like Dorian?” she said, giving Solas a mischievous smile.

Solas glanced up from the book to meet her gaze, looking a little startled before he began to laugh. “Yes, just like Dorian,  _Da’len_.”

Talia’s smile faltered, looking back down to the book. She bit her lip, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I’ve upset you,” he said softly.

Her fingers curled into a fist over the pages, shoulders hunched. “Is that how you see me?” she asked, and she found herself afraid of his answer. Her brow furrowed, crinkling the green lines of her  _vallaslin_  as her equally vibrant green eyes sought his. “As a child?”

Solas’s eyes broke away from hers, his frown emphasizing the scar over his right eye, making it deeper. After a pause, his gaze returned to her. “No,” he said at last. “It is not. I’m afraid it was simply the situation that brought the word out of me, I meant no offense.”

“Then how  _do_  you see me?” she pressed, gently.

“I think I am still trying to figure that out, myself,” he admitted.

At that point Talia had already started to recognize her feelings for Solas, and later she suspected that so had he. But in that moment, his words gave her hope for their future, despite the chaos all around them. She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, let me know when you figure that out.”

He nodded, smiling in return. “I shall.”

And he had.

After Skyhold, and their first kiss in the fade, and their first kiss  _outside_  the fade, they continued to use her reading practice as pretense to spend time together. They had moved on past  _The Tale of the Champion_  and on to other books (better written books, Solas insisted).

Talia was cross-legged on his desk in the rotunda as he sat in his chair, fingers running lazily along her thigh as she read aloud quietly. As she finished a paragraph she glanced up from the book and caught him watching her with a relaxed expression, affection softening something in his eyes.

She blushed slightly, unable to help but smile. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just listening,” he said. “Your voice is soothing.”

A deep, rich laugh echoed through the rotunda from above them, followed by a slightly higher chuckle that ended in something of a sigh. The noise made Solas frown and shake his head, his hand falling away from Talia’s leg.

“Why does the Iron Bull feel that it is necessary to come  _here_? He and Dorian should take their business back to the Herald’s Rest,” Solas muttered, annoyed with the interruption.

Talia set the book aside, unfolding her legs and tucking her feet under Solas’s thighs. His hands traced the muscles of her calves, and she smiled at him. “I think it’s sweet. I like seeing Dorian happy.”

“I must admit I don’t quite understand your friendship with him,  _Vhenan_ , but I can tell he makes you happy. In that regard he has my respect,” Solas said with a bemused smile. But his smile faded into an expression that was thoughtful and more serious than Talia liked. “It’s comforting to know that once all of this is over, you have friends who will remain at your side.”

She should have seen it coming. Looking back on everything, there had been so many hints. All the times he had tried to pull away, but couldn’t quite manage (until he  _did_ ).

“I’ll have friends, yes,” she said, leaning forward to rest her arms on her knees, bringing her closer to him. “But I’ll also have  _you_.”

Solas didn’t answer. Instead he cradled her head in his hands and kissed her. His kiss was so dizzying, so hungry and desperate that she never realized that he hadn’t agreed. She had taken his kiss as a silent ‘yes’.

“ _Ma harel lasa_!” She had said to him in the end.  _You lied to me!_

“Only by omission.”

That much, at least, had been true. But did he really think that would make it easier?

But Solas had been right about one thing: Dorian remained at her side, even if  _he_  hadn’t.


	4. Of Warnings

Leaning back from his desk with a groan, Dorian arched his back to stretch muscles stiff from writing letters. He pressed his hands into the small of his back and flexed his fingers, then relaxed with an exaggerated sigh.

His gaze sought out Lavellan where she was nearly engulfed by vibrantly patterned, squashy pillows that filled the generous window seat. She was nearly halfway through _The Tale of the Champion_ , which sat open against her legs, and she was fast asleep. Her head was lolled to the side, supported by one of those many pillows, pale blonde hair covering part of her face. He was struck suddenly by how young she still seemed even after the past three years. Maybe it was because of how small she'd always been. He felt the urge to scoop her up and protect her, but he ignored it. It was too late for protection, and besides, he knew from first hand experience that she had strength in abundance.

In a simpler life she wouldn't have needed it.

When Dorian first laid eyes on her, he was certain that someone must have gotten confused somewhere. _This_ couldn't be the Herald of Andraste. It wasn't that she was an elf, it was the fact that she was so _small_. She looked so thin and delicate, like spun glass, and he was certain she was about to break. How could this slip of a woman have emerged from the Fade and seal rifts with the mere gesture of her hand?

Then he saw her fight. Lingering towards the back with another elf –-some strange apostate, he remembered thinking-- she peppered the demons with arrows with this calm, steady look on her face. It wasn't until after the rift was sealed and the demons gone that he saw the smallest tremble in her hands and the way she kept to to Solas's side as if he kept her grounded.

Later, as she transitioned from Herald to Inquisitor, she found her own strength. Her spun glass hardened to diamond as the pressure of her position tempered and tested her, threatened to shatter her. But she endured. She endured even when Solas took her _vallaslin_ and broke her heart, and then later when he vanished without a word.

They, her inner circle, helped her back to her feet and –-damn them all, himself included-- most of them left. Not on purpose, not with the intention of _leaving_ her. But with the Breach and Corypheus gone, suddenly their lives from before began to intervene. They had the liberty of leaving the Inquisition. But Talia had no choice. What was an Inquisition without its Inquisitor?

He wasn't surprised that after everything, she finally shattered like that spun glass he saw from the first.

And so he swept up her pieces and carried her off to Tevinter, like she wanted. He knew he shouldn't have. But he was selfish and wanted his friend, someone to help with _his_ pieces.

It was a mistake.

He hadn't told Talia the entire truth about what had happened with the other Magisters. He had borne the lewd comments about his relationship with the Iron Bull, the insinuations and barely-contained laughter. He had been prepared for that.

No, Magister Adrius had dared to mention a certain Talia Lavellan, newly arrived in Minrathous. He expressed concern over her safety. “After all,” Adrius said with careful measure, “Tevinter isn't the safest place for an elf.”

Even Solas had said as much.

* * *

 

Talia was dreaming again of the forest, the trees crowned in red like the trees in the Crossroads. She felt eyes on her back, and she knew the wolf was there, watching her. Being so close to Dorian, to a familiar, comforting presence, had kept her away from these trees. The coils of the black snake kept her protected, draped in warm scales.

But she was alone in her dreams, alone on the edges of the Fade.

Well, alone except for the wolf at her back.

“ _Vhenan_.”

At first she couldn't believe that she had possibly heard his voice, but when she turned he was there. Not the wolf, the barest hint of eyes and teeth and fur in the corner of her sight. _Solas_. He was there, _truly_ there, looking the same as he did the last time they saw each other. But there was an accusation in his eyes.

“What are you doing in Tevinter?” he asked, an aloofness in his voice that seemed forced. His arms tensed as he held his hands behind his back. “It isn't _safe_ for you there.”

A short, clipped laugh escaped her. “Nowhere in _Thedas_ is safe for me if you have your way! Why should _you_ care?”

His stoic mask cracked, she saw the pain etch into the lines of his face, in the downward tilt of his mouth. “I care a great deal, _Vhenan_.”

“If you _care,_ how could you leave me again? I _needed_ you.” Angry tears flooded her eyes. She swiped at them with the back of her hand.

“You are so strong, and that is purely your own. You don't need me.”

How could he stay so calm? She would have preferred anger to this. But she had anger enough for them both, it seemed. “I don't need the man I love?! I would have gone with you if you had let me.”

Solas tilted his chin down, giving a small shake of his head. “We both know you never would have helped me. You could not help cause the end of the world that contains the people you cherish.” His lips thinned. “And I cannot allow you to sway me.”

Talia fell silent. He was right that she would not have truly helped him. She would have tried to delay him, stop him, distract him. Anything for the chance to be with him and try to save her world at the same time. But he knew her well enough to see it. She was not a skilled liar, and he was a master.

“This was a mistake,” Solas said, his eyes meeting hers once again. The pain there made her ache, wishing he would let her embrace him but knowing he would not. “One of many, in regards to my feelings for you. I should not have come.”

He turned to vanish back into the trees, but he hesitated as a strangled sob escaped her throat.

“If you care for me,” he said quietly, his back to her. “Please leave Tevinter.”

Then he was gone.

* * *

 

Talia woke slowly, eyes blinking open as she took in her surroundings. _The study, with Dorian._ When she raised her head to look for him, he was still at his desk though no longer hunched over his letters. Their eyes met and his crinkled with a warm smile.

“Did you have a nice nap while I was toiling away?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course, all the better knowing that you were so busy while I'm enjoying living in the lap of luxury,” she teased, the better to hide her lie.

It hadn't been a nightmare, and she hadn't woken shaking, but she was still unsettled by Solas's words. Of course Tevinter wasn't the _safest_ place she could have chosen, but it wasn't as though there were villains out to get her around every corner. But something had made him come to her, important enough to give her that message. Was he just trying to get her out of the way? Or was there some other threat looming over her?

Either way, she was determined to stay. Dorian was her friend and they needed each other.

Dorian rose from his desk, toying with his mustache. “Speaking of the lap of luxury, I believe it is nearly time for dinner.” He approached her where she lay, holding out a hand and taking a sweeping bow that made her stifle a laugh. “Do you care to join me, Lady Lavellan?”

She took his hand and swung her legs over the side of the window seat. “I would be honored, Magister Pavus.”

Dorian helped her extricate herself from her nest of pillows, and Talia met his gray eyes. He winked at her which made her laugh, and as a warm feeling spread through her chest -–happy just to enjoy his company, how he pretended, or didn't pretend, to dote on her-- she chose not to tell him about Solas's warning.

At least not yet.


	5. Of Drinks

Dinner had been excellent, as usual. Afterward, Dorian and Talia retired to the sitting room where they shared an oversized chaise lounge despite the fact that there were more than enough stuffed chairs throughout the room for the both of them. Her legs were in his lap as they settled in to the warm haze that a shared bottle of brandy provided.

Dorian knew that she didn’t drink often, at least not before. He had only ever seen her drink with him, in private, after his playful urging that she  _let loose a little_  and,  _damn you woman relax once in a while._ Most of the time she still denied him when he offered, but when she accepted it took less effort. He wondered, even in his muddled mind, if he should stop encouraging her before she ended up like him.

“I should take you out tomorrow,” he said suddenly, setting aside his empty glass. “It’s not good to stay cooped up in here.”

“Take me where?” she asked, and he was reassured that she didn’t instantly reject the idea.

After they had first arrived in Minrathous she had been hesitant to leave the house. Mhyra said she wouldn’t even go with her to run errands. With Magister Adrius’s thinly veiled threat still ringing in his ears, Dorian considered that maybe it was best that way, but  _no_. He could tell that Talia was wilting, a wildflower that shouldn’t be trapped indoors.

He was struck with an idea. “Shopping,” he said with a grin. “You are in desperate need of a new wardrobe, I  _insist_.”

“But my clothes are fine, Dorian,” she grumbled.

“That is  _not the point_ , and besides,” he insisted, making a sweeping motion with his hand. “You are in  _Tevinter_  now. You need to dress the part.”

With the right clothes she could go outside and she would blend in. That was the key, to not stand out, not be recognized. He had to admit that Solas removing the  _vallaslin_  helped immensely; it would have made things harder since there were typically no Dalish that dared venture into Tevinter.

When she didn’t immediately respond he pressed further. “It will be  _fun_. Let me show you around.”

Talia looked at him with those big green eyes, cheeks flush from alcohol, and Dorian saw the moment she decided to agree before the words even passed her lips. “Fine,” she sighed dramatically. “But only because I know it’s pointless to argue with you.”

“Excellent,” he said, relaxing back into the cushions of the lounge.

He was reminded, suddenly and strongly, of another time they had sat, and drank, and talked. Back when things –somehow, even with a hole in the sky and an impossible ancient darkspawn trying to _murder_  them– were simpler.

They were sitting in her bedroom at Skyhold, sharing a bottle of wine. They relaxed on the sofa, Talia sitting with her back against the armrest, feet pressed against Dorian’s thigh with her knees bent. Dorian held his wine with one hand, his other arm draped across the back of the sofa.

“Have you and Solas ever…” Dorian said conversationally, eyes sparkling with mischief over his wine glass.

“Ever what?” Talia raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. She sipped at her own wine to hide her smile.

“You know.” He winked.

“I’m shocked that  _you_  of all people are having trouble saying the words.”

“Oh  _fine_ ,” he scoffed. “Have you and Solas had sex yet? I’m dying to know. I know Sera makes jokes, but that doesn’t mean she  _knows_.”

“Yes, we have,” she admitted quietly, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.

“ _Really?_ ” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s sort of hard to imagine. Not that I  _want to,_ mind you.” His mustache quivered as he fought back a grin. “…Bald head glistening in the moonlight. It’s too late, I’m imagining it.”

“ _Dorian!_ ” she exclaimed, nearly choking on her drink.

“Well now I need details. Where did it happen, here in your room perhaps? Certainly not in the rotunda, I would have  _heard_.”

She cleared her throat. “The first time–”

“Ooh,  _first_  time. Do go on.”

Talia rolled her eyes. “The first time was in the Fade.”

“ _Maker no_ , you have to be joking.” He looked  _scandalized._

“I’m not. Our first kiss was in the Fade, too.”

“Why am I  _not_  surprised. That is  _so like him_.” He shook with silent laughter, setting down his wine glass so that the contents wouldn’t spill over onto the pale fabric of the sofa. “Are you certain it isn’t just the Fade he’s infatuated with?”

Talia shoved him with her feet. He took hold of her calves and drew them into his lap, patting her legs in a show of attempting to soothe her, mustache quivering.

“What about  _you_ ,” Talia deflected, her cheeks and the tips of her ears going red. “What about you and  _Bull_?”

“Oh no, we are talking about  _you_ , my dear Inquisitor.”

“And here I thought you  _loved_  to talk about yourself.”

“Oh you know I do, but you’re just trying to distract me,” he said with a crooked smile. “I will  _not_  be denied, so you might as well give in.”

“Is that what you said to Bull?”

“Ha! No, Bull hardly needed any urging, believe me. He was… very enthusiastic.” His eyes went a little distant and he fetched his glass back to take a sip, a small pleased hum escaping him. Then his gray eyes sharpened again and he scowled elegantly. “And  _you_  are being  _atrocious_. I need more details!”

“I am  _not_  going to give you a run through of my sex life, Dorian,” she said, poking him in the stomach with her toes.

“A pity.  _Well_  you could at least tell me whose idea it was. Wait, wait,  _don’t_  tell me, I want to guess first.” His eyes glittered with wine and amusement as he scrutinized her. Talia wondered if it was plain on her face. “It was  _you_  wasn’t it? Oh Talia, so sweet and  _innocent_  Talia.”

Her face and ears were burning. She wanted to bury her face against the back of the couch but she resisted, embarrassed and happy, shy yet eager to tell  _someone,_  especially Dorian.

“Oh it  _was_ ,” he pressed, laughing and squeezing her ankle. “You  _seduced_ him.”

“Now that, I think, is going a bit  _far_ ,” she managed to squeak out.

“Seduced him in the Fade like a  _demon_  you minx.”

“No, it wasn’t–!” she huffed at him, waiting for the laughing to stop. “He said things were  _easier_  for him in the Fade, like with our first kiss. So I thought, maybe…”

Dorian nodded, the earnestness in her voice quelling his mirth slightly. “No need to explain, I understand. I’m glad you’ve gotten him to open up to you, he’s a little… distant with the rest of us.”

“He’s just so used to being alone.”

Dorian patted her leg again. “No need to make excuses for him, I’m not complaining. I don’t need to understand, what’s important is that you’re happy.”

“I  _am_  happy, Dorian,” she said, and her smile was so bright it was infectious.

“ _Good_ ,” he said. “You of all of us deserve happiness.”

She nudged him gently. “So  _serious_ , Dorian.”

“I’m a serious person,” he sniffed.

“You are not!”

“Okay,  _fine_ ,” he admitted. “I have my moments.”

Dorian, back in the present, still hazy with brandy, looked at Talia. She was staring at some distant point in her thoughts, eyes unfocused. She was certainly tipsy, possibly drunk. One thing that hadn’t changed, over the years, was that she was a pathetic lightweight.

“Do you miss it?” he asked, realizing too late that she wouldn’t know what he meant. He cleared his throat. “Corypheus, the Breach, the might of the Inquisition?”

Her eyes met his and she looked so  _achingly_  sad that he wished he hadn’t asked the question. He opened his mouth to try and take it back, but she spoke first.

“Do I miss when our enemy was an evil ancient darkspawn, instead of the man I love? Miss when we were all united under a common cause we understood as best we could, when the lines of good and evil seemed so much simpler? When our friends, our  _lovers_  didn’t betray us? Before spies corrupted our ranks so entirely that we had to tear down everything we had worked so hard to build? When everything I thought I knew about my people, my gods, my culture… when it all didn’t feel like some sick joke?”

She paused, eyes boring into his. All he could do was swallow past the knot in his throat and give a weak nod.

Talia wilted against the cushions, all the strength seeming to leave her all at once. Her eyes shone. “Every damn day.”


	6. Of Clothes

Dorian was starting to wonder if this was actually a good idea after all. Talia had never been much of one to enjoy being waited on, and the way the seamstresses fluttered around her like elaborate birds was clearly making her uncomfortable. The pair of them spoke in a hasty mix of the common tongue and Tevene, only heightening the confused and worried look on the elf’s face as she stood helpless under their measuring tape and determined hands.

Her large green eyes sought his out where he leaned against the wall, out of the way to let the seamstresses do their work. He gave her a reassuring smile. “Come now, you’ve been through all this before. I’m sure this can’t be worse than being in the clutches of Josephine, Leliana, and Madame Vivienne.”

 _That_  managed to elicit a tremulous smile before one of the women –the younger one, a pretty thing with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun– let out a frustrated sigh. “What are we to do with  _this_?” she blurted out carelessly, gesturing to what remained of Talia’s left arm.

A swell of anger rose in his chest at the way Talia visibly crumpled under the woman’s gaze, her arms pulled tight against her sides and her hand flying to the jawbone that hung against her chest. The smooth teeth –the points long worn away, but still hard against her skin– pressed into her fingers as she clutched it tightly. Talia was wearing Solas’s pendant openly now, no longer tucked under her clothes now that Dorian knew she had it. Her fingers would seek it out, running over the smooth bone and teeth, and he wondered if she realized how often she did it.

 _If it wasn’t for this woman, you wouldn’t even be alive to complain._ “Watch your tongue,” Dorian snapped, unable to keep the venom from his voice. He waited for the shock to register on her face and to have her full attention before continuing. “It seems to me that you are saying that you are unable to do your job. Leave and bring me someone who  _can_.”

His tone brooked no argument. The girl flushed with embarrassment and ducked her head. “Of course, Magister.” She fled the large fitting room after he jerked his head towards the door.

The older seamstress continued as if nothing had happened, running her measuring tape across the back of her shoulders.

Dorian caught Talia’s gaze again, forcing himself to smile at her as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “Relax your shoulders, my dear, or your clothes will be fitted all wrong. You don’t want to walk around looking like a hunchback, do you?”

A ghost of a smile pulled at her lips, and he gave her a small nod of approval.  _This is nothing. These people are nothing. You are the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste. Straighten your back, raise your head, and remember who you are. You are not glass, you are_ diamond.

Her grip on the jawbone relaxed, though he could see red marks on her pale fingers from where the teeth dug in. She ran the pad of her thumb along the smooth curve of bone, and her body straightened. Somehow, it was as if she was pulling her strength from within herself, from Dorian, and even from Solas.

He used to watch them sometimes. He couldn’t help it when they were gallivanting together across all of Thedas. While they fought she danced between whoever was in the midst of the fray –usually the solid wall of flesh that was the Iron Bull– and Solas. Yes, Dorian was back there too, at a distance, but she always returned to Solas, like a touchstone. Then she’d spring away again, reassured that he was still there, still fine.  _Until he wasn’t there anymore,_  he reminded himself. _Then she would come to me._

Even as they traveled, if Solas would pause to look at something she was at his elbow, her fingers brushing his side. She was always reaching for him. Sometimes he saw the look on Solas’s face when she would turn away, return to whatever she had been doing before he snatched up her attention. Dorian never doubted that the elf loved her, but now he understood why sometimes he looked at her like he was hurting.

He hoped that Solas was hurting just as much –no,  _more_ – than she was.

* * *

Progress with the seamstresses went smoother once a replacement joined them. Talia wondered if the blonde had warned this one, because the subject of her arm never came up again. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did, but she had already been feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious and the tone in the woman’s voice was enough to make her just want to run away and hide.

Dorian had promised her that today would be  _fun_.

But with Dorian’s reassuring presence she finally relaxed. Her measurements were finished up and they went to fetch some clothing that was already close to her size. While they were gone, she let out a heavy sigh, forcing some of the tension from her body.

“I’m sorry, this was supposed to go differently,” Dorian said, frowning slightly.

“It’s fine, I’m just being too sensitive.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t you start trying to comfort  _me_. You, Talia, are  _impossible_.”

She laughed, which eased some of the frown off his face. “That’s what I’ve been telling myself for years. Everything to do with me is just impossible.”

“Don’t let them bother you,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall to stand in front of her.

“I’m trying.” She looked away, the seriousness between them feeling suddenly stifling. Her gaze darted back to him, lips twitching with a barely-contained smile. “Though it seems like you won’t  _let_ them bother me. Enjoying throwing your weight around,  _Magister_  Pavus?”

The frown eased off Dorian’s face, a small smirk tilting his lips. “Oh yes, I do love having the ability to send the staff running for cover. It’s like being back at Skyhold, everyone fleeing before the evil ‘Vint’.”

“That…  _eventually_  stopped.”

“Once I helped you defeat the even-more-evil Tevinter Magister, certainly. They couldn’t exactly keep pretending that I was secretly Corypheus’s spy once all that was over and done with.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Honestly I think I preferred being blatantly ignored, afterward it seemed like they were all tripping over each other to try and make it up to me.”

“And here I thought you enjoyed having all the attention.”

“I have  _standards_.”

Talia was smiling now, and so was Dorian.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

She nodded, releasing Solas’s necklace so she could reach out and grip his hand instead. She squeezed his fingers gently. “Yes, thank you.”

Something in his eyes softened as he glanced down to watch her take his hand. He raised her hand to his face, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles before covering it with his other hand. “Good.”

With a short knock on the door, the seamstresses returned with a flurry of fabric. She was happy to note that most of the colors were greens and blues, like she and Dorian had suggested. The lone man in the room, Dorian was shooed away so that they could help her dress. A flicker of concern crossed his face as he was ushered out the door, but Talia smiled and gave him a little wave. She saw his expression relax before the door was closed behind him.

She felt a bit like a doll as the two women talked to each other about colors and fabric, helping her undress to her smallclothes before putting her into the first outfit. She hadn’t even had the chance to look in the mirror before the seamstresses started tutting and stripping her again.

“The green blouse, it matches her eyes.” “But the dress–” “ _No_ , you can tell, this one is more comfortable in trousers.” “Hmm… then yes, I agree.” “Then perhaps… yes the black leggings.”

 _This_  outfit they let her see. The blouse was made of silk, light and smooth against her skin. Pale green began light at her shoulders and darkened as the fabric fell around her waist. The back of the blouse was long, falling to two long tails that reached the backs of her knees. Her right arm was bare, her left hidden in a dagged sleeve that would have been down to her elbow had her arm been intact. But it was the perfect length to conceal without being so long that it hung empty. The black leggings were a soft knit that tucked into slippers that covered her ankles.

She felt… pretty. Soft and light, not what she was expecting from Tevinter fashion. After spending so much time with Dorian, she had expected to be weighed down by seemingly useless buckles and straps.

The women nodded their approval, though one of them eyed the leather and bone necklace with a hint of distaste. But they didn’t mention it. Instead they nudged her gently towards the door.

“He will want to see,” they said.

Yes, he certainly would.

Dorian was glancing over a row of clothed mannequins when he heard the door open. He turned, and when he saw her his face went slack. Suddenly second-guessing herself and feeling self-conscious again, Talia smoothed the fabric at her hips and fought the strong urge to cross her arm over her chest. Her fidgeting brought Dorian back to his senses, a smile breaking over his face. His gray eyes swept over her from head to toe and when his gaze returned to meet hers there was a tenderness there that eased away her fears.

“Do I look okay?” she asked him.

“You look  _beautiful_ ,” he said, and she was surprised to see that his eyes were a little glassy.

Her chest felt light and she smiled at him. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do,” he said. He cleared his throat, regaining some of his lost composure. “Though you still pale in comparison to  _me_ , naturally.”

“Naturally,” she reassured him with a smile.

“But it does my poor heart some good to see you in something  _presentable_. There’s some color in your cheeks and some life back in your eyes, my dear.”

Suddenly feeling a little shy, she did a quick little turn to try and hide her face. “I suppose you were right, about getting out of the house,” she admitted when she could trust her voice.

“Talia, we’ve talked about this. I’m  _always_ right. Now,” he said, tapping his chin and giving her an appraising look. “I’m certain there will be no mistaking you for a servant dressed like  _that_ , pointed ears be damned.”

A tap on her shoulder reminded her that there was still much more to do before they were finished, and Talia went back into the dressing room while Dorian waited.

By the time they were done they left with three completed outfits and an order for four more to be ready in two days. But the first was her favorite. She left the shop wearing it, happy that she had agreed to go.


	7. Of Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A second chapter today, to make up for missing a chapter yesterday. :)

Talia was lost. Completely, utterly, totally lost.

Minrathous was like a maze of splendor stacked on top of ruin, and so much of it was black stone that baked in the sun. She could feel it through her thin shoes, and she wondered why a country that was so  _hot_  was so fascinated by dark colors. She found herself feeling homesick for the Frostback Mountains and Skyhold.

She was dressed in one of her new outfits, a sleeveless top with a high, wide collar and flowing fabric that went past her knees. This was more in line with the Tevinter style she was expecting. It even had pointless little straps and buckles. When she pointed them out to Dorian he just rolled his eyes at her. It was predominantly gray in color with accents in white; she had refused more black and compromised on avoiding bright colors. The jawbone pendant was tucked under her clothes, she could feel it against her chest.  _To blend in,_  Dorian reminded her.

Well she was blending in, but now the problem was figuring out where she had managed to get herself so turned around.

Another week had passed since their trip to the tailor, and Dorian was once again making visits in person to the other Magisters. While he was gone, Talia had started joining Mhyra while running errands, so she thought she had the basic gist of how to get around the area near Dorian’s home. That was clearly not the case.

Sighing, she looked down at the small paper bag of sugared dates in her hand. “Was it worth it for the sweets, Talia?” She tipped the bag to her mouth, shaking one onto her tongue. When the sweetness flooded her mouth, she reconsidered. “Maybe.”

But the daylight was beginning to wane, the stones painted orange by the setting sun. She had perhaps another hour before the magic powered lamps flickered to life, and she’d feel a lot safer if she was indoors before that happened.

Talia pressed on, heading towards the sun.  _The house is in the West, listen for the fountain._

She should have let Mhyra send one of the other servants with her. She hadn’t even thought to take her Sending Crystal just in case something like this happened. She’d been so confident she could get to and from the market that she just hadn’t seen the point. Leave it to her to be able to track anything through the woods, but to get lost in less than a mile in a city. Apparently she had forgotten how many times she got herself turned around in Val Royeaux. If Dorian had been home he would have been more than happy to remind her.

Following the narrow, twisting paths between the ruins of ancient Minrathous and the pristine new architecture of the recent decades, Talia became slowly aware of a presence following her. Pricking her ears, she tucked her sweets into a pouch at her waist, hand finding the hilt of the knife that hung beside it. Her fingers itched, longing,  _aching_  for her bow. But as she was, drawing a bow was impossible.

 _It isn’t safe for you there._  Solas’s warning rose to the surface of her mind, unbidden. Talia clenched her jaw and sped up her pace.

A scuff of feet against stone behind her sent gooseflesh up her arms. They had only sped up their pace to match hers, but she gripped the hilt of the knife tightly just in case.

She could hear the steady drone of voices up ahead. Once she had a clear view, she realized it was the market. She had gotten herself so turned around that she managed to find her way back there, but she was glad of a familiar sight. Picking up her pace again, she darted out into the busy crowd of the marketplace.

The crowd carried her for a few minutes before she ducked back out of the thickest part, standing beside a bench to regain her bearings. She scanned the faces around her, but as far as she could tell, there was no one she could see that was paying her much attention. Whoever had been following her seemed to be gone.

Heaving a sigh of relief, she fetched her bag of sugared dates and shook out another one, chewing it as she scanned the buildings around her. Who had been following her, and why? She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the jawbone under her clothing. As she regained her bearings and felt fairly confident that she could find her way back to Dorian’s house again, she was aware of someone approaching her. Her hand drifted back down to the knife at her belt.

Before she could turn, they spoke.

“ _Talia_  is that you? Maker’s balls, girl, I never would have recognized you in that Tevinter get-up. Dorian wasted no time, I see,” came a familiar Marcher growl.

“I  _told you_  that was her.” A voice that was annoyed yet affectionate at the same time that could only belong to one person.

Somehow, as if they materialized from the Fade itself, Blackwall –no, Thom Rainier now– and Sera stood there in the marketplace, grinning at her like fools.

“Sera? Blackw–  _Thom_ , what are you two doing here?” Talia blurted out, gaping at the two of them.

“Came to check on you, yeah? Left a bit sudden before, you and Dorian,” Sera said, as if it were obvious.

“Are you sure it’s safe for you to be here?” Talia still couldn’t believe that they were just  _standing_ there, that they had found her in the middle of Minrathous.

“What about  _you_ , elfing it up in the middle of bloody  _Tevinter_.” Sera thumbed her nose, raising an eyebrow. “'Sides, got Jenny stuff I can be doing here.”

“What Sera is trying to say, is that her first priority was making sure that you were all right, and that since we were already here she might as well do something useful,” Thom said, shoving Sera with his elbow.

“Arse-biscuit!” she snapped, then started laughing immediately after. She tugged on the end of his beard, making him yelp in an undignified way.

“But that doesn’t explain why  _you’re_  here, Thom,” Talia said, still stunned and not quite sure that they were  _real_.

Sera shoved Thom’s shoulder, laughing. “This  _ninny_  didn’t want me coming to scary-fucking-Tevinter all by my lonesome. Like I hadn’t already been here once before.”

Thom let out another undignified yelp as Talia leaped to wrap her arm around his neck to hug him. Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around her in a bear-hug that lifted her feet from the ground.

“Oy, don’t hog her all to yourself!” Sera said.

Thom lowered her back to the ground and pulled Sera into the hug too. She complained, loudly, but hugged Talia and ruffled her hair. When they finally broke apart, Talia’s face was flushed from laughing and she reached out to take hold of Sera’s arm.

“I can’t believe you’re here! It’s so good to see you,  _both_  of you,” she said, and she was embarrassed to realize that her vision blurred with tears.  _Happy_  tears. She blinked them away, shaking her head and smiling so widely her cheeks hurt. “Did you tell Dorian? Were you trying to surprise me?”

* * *

“What do you  _mean_  she  _went out?_ ”

Mhyra’s lips pursed under Dorian’s withering stare. He had just returned from a long day of playing nice with Magister Adrius and a few of his cronies, and immediately noticed the lack of a certain blonde elf that did not greet him like she usually did.

“She left about two hours ago for the market. I was cooking and the lady refused my suggestion of having one of the other servants accompany her,” Mhyra said with infuriating patience.

“Did she say how long she was expecting to be gone?” He forced his tone to soften, even as a trickle of fear ran down his spine.  _Talia why did you go alone? I spent all day doing a fantastic job of resisting the urge to once again punch Adrius in the face for the sole purpose of keeping you safe._

“I did not ask, but I expected her to return before you arrived.”

Dorian let out an exasperated sigh as he turned and left the kitchen. He pulled at the heavy chain that hung around his neck, taking hold of the large golden locket that contained his Sending Crystal. He flicked it open and ran his thumb along the stone, watching it begin to glow.

“Talia?” he spoke into it. He waited, but there was no response. “Talia?”

Still nothing.

He took the steps to the second floor two at a time, and hurried to her room. He spoke into the crystal again, and as he feared, he heard his voice echoing back to him. There was her own locket, sitting on top of her bedside table.

“ _Kaffas_ ,” he breathed, snapping his locket closed and running his fingers through his hair.

He never should have encouraged her to go out, not while Adrius’s threat hung over her. He should have told her about the threat in the first place, made sure she understood the situation. But he hadn’t wanted to worry her. At first it was because she was already so downtrodden he didn’t want to add to the weight bearing down on her. Now in the past week her spirits seemed to be lifting –partially due to her getting outside with Mhyra, he was certain– and he didn’t want to drag her back down.

She was going to be furious when she realized he’d been keeping secrets from her.  _Let her, so long as she’s still around to_ be _furious._

Dorian went back downstairs. Standing there frozen in her room wasn’t going to bring her back. He had to go out, try to find her, do  _something._

He heard the scrape of a key in the door as soon as his feet reached the front hall. As the door opened, voices filtered in before their owners crossed the threshold.

“–that’s what happened, Andraste take me if I’m lying!”

“Ha! I’m sure you’d like Andraste to  _take_  you.”

“Depends on if she looks like all those sad statues. That the thing, innit? Besides, who needs  _her_ when I’ve got my Widdle?”

Sera and Rainier? How did they…? It didn’t matter, because between them was Talia, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, Dorian, I was hoping I’d get back before you. Look who I…” Her smile faltered as she looked at him.

Relief had washed away his fear and it was quickly replaced with anger. Anger that she hadn’t been more careful, that she had forgotten the Sending Crystal, that she hadn’t taken someone with her. Before he could catch himself, he felt the words start spilling out of him. “Where  _were_  you? Why didn’t you take the Sending Crystal with you when you left?”

“I just went to the market, Dorian. I didn’t think it would be an issue,” she said, frowning. “I wasn’t planning on getting lost.”

“What if something happened? You should have taken one of the servants with you!”

Behind Talia, Sera’s lip curled at him and she made a move to step in between them. Rainier took hold of her wrist, holding her in place and shaking of his head.

“Nothing happened, I’m fine.”

She knew him, understood him. She didn’t respond with her own anger or frustration despite the way he snapped at her. Her calm voice smoothed his raised hackles, brought him back down from the anger of fear. Talia left Sera and Rainier in the doorway, taking a few small steps closer to the mage. He met her halfway, tilting his head down to look at her.

His voice was quiet when he spoke, intended for her ears alone, embarrassed at his outburst in front of their friends. “When you weren’t here, I feared the worst had happened.”

She took hold of his hand, squeezing it. “I’m here now.”

“I can’t lose you too, Talia,” he breathed, leaning in closer, closing his eyes for a few moments while he drew in a deep, steadying breath.

“I know. I’m here,” she murmured.

Dorian opened his eyes and focused on hers, letting her see him regain his composure before his public mask settled over his face for Rainier and Sera. He reclaimed his hand from her grip, sidestepping around Talia to greet their friends who were waiting awkwardly at the door.

“Bit of a surprise to see you two here in the heart of Tevinter! You should have told me, I would have prepared a parade to welcome you to  _real_  civilization,” Dorian said, fixing a grin to his face.

“It wasn’t exactly the most thought-out plan,” Rainier said, his eyes flicking over to Talia even as he spoke to Dorian. Something on her face must have been reassuring, because the man seemed to visibly relax after a moment.

“The two of you? Lacking in a plan? I would never have guessed.”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Alright, let us see your fancy-pants house then,” she said, dumping a heavy bag that presumably contained her belongings on the floor. She dusted off her hands. “Been a long day, yeah?”

Rainier picked up Sera’s bag, shaking his head.

“You two are more than welcome to stay. Rainier, you could even have a bath, and I can introduce you to something called  _soap_.”

“I see you haven’t changed, Dorian,” Rainier said with a sigh of resignation.

“Why would I change? I’m perfect the way I am.”


	8. Of Companionship

It occurred to Dorian that he hadn’t seen Talia laugh this much in, well, probably years if he was entirely truthful. He’d been gone for nearly two years before the Exalted Council had drawn them all back together again, and with that damned council hanging over them and everything that followed, there hadn’t been much time for levity.

Rainier and Sera did most of the talking as they relaxed in the sitting room after the loudest dinner that his home had probably seen. Though, he had to admit it was nice to get some of the old team back together again, if only because Talia seemed so happy. She was sharing the lounge with Sera –the girl had practically pulled Talia into her lap– while Dorian and Rainier occupied a pair of overstuffed chairs. The mage was feeling a little ignored, but he willed himself not to let it bother him. They were here for  _her_. They had claimed her the moment they walked through the door.

They had always been Talia’s, and in truth all of them were. From the refined such as himself and Madame Vivienne, down to the common like Rainier and Sera, and even to the unusual like Cole, Talia had gathered them up and made them her own. There was something to be said for a woman that could win the heart of an ancient elven would-be-god, he supposed.

“But really, honestly, how are you and Dagna?” Talia asked. Her head was crooked to the side as Sera’s nimble fingers twisted tiny braids through Talia’s hair.

“We’re good, great,” Sera said, then frowned. “No, that’s not right. We’re bloody fantastic, right?”

“I’m glad,” Talia said, and Dorian recognized the wistful, slightly distant look in her eye. But apparently so did Sera.

Sera tugged on the hair pinched between her fingers, making Talia yelp. “Don’t you go getting all mushy on me, none of that. No thinking from you, no  _remembering_. Just listen to us and laugh, yeah?”

Talia smiled, and Dorian relaxed again. It was good, them being here. As the two elves talked, Dorian glanced over at Rainier and realized that he had been watching him. As their eyes met Dorian raised a curious eyebrow while Rainier glanced away and back again, as if embarrassed to have been caught.

Rainier cleared his throat. “Have you seen Cole, by chance?”

Now  _that_  was unexpected. Dorian’s other eyebrow joined the first. “No, should I have?”

The big man shrugged. “He had been traveling with us for a bit, he seemed keen on seeing Talia. But he wandered off somewhere in Nevarra, said someone needed help. I wasn’t sure if he had made it up here before us somehow.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually.”

“Probably. Hard to tell with him sometimes.”

Dorian found himself monitoring his behavior with Talia now that they were being observed. It had been so easy to fall into a degree of comfort with each other that bordered on  _intimate_ , and having Sera and Rainier there in the house had him realizing that perhaps it was bordering on inappropriate. He didn’t think she had really noticed much of a difference in his behavior, as distracted by their presence as she was. He was struck by the realization that he was  _bitter_  at their intrusion. That in turn made him feel a bit ashamed.

But the others had always had each other, while he felt like the odd man out. Oh, surely they were friendly but there had always been something of a distance between them and the Tevinter mage. Not that they were solely responsible, he had done his part at keeping them on the other side of his walls just as much as they were comfortable staying there. (Well, until his bickering with Bull had turned into something  _more_ , but… he couldn’t think about that. How much of it had been real?)

But not Talia. She would have none of that. But he supposed there was something bonding about being thrust through time together. After that, she had gone out of her way to make him feel welcome, to spend time with him. She dragged him across half of Thedas (complaining most of the way) so that he wasn’t lonely, sitting back at Skyhold with only Cullen who would tolerate his company. While chess with the Commander was enjoyable, the man was a stickler for work and hardly ever took time to relax.

And then there was the incident with his father. That had been the moment he finally realized how much she meant to him.

He was so glad of her company when they went to that little tavern in Redcliffe, felt safer there with a friend. He wasn’t ashamed when his facade came crashing down around him when confronted with his father, because he trusted her. Somehow it didn’t feel strange to have this young woman at his side, defending him, even as his voice cracked in pain.

Afterward she took him to the Redcliffe Chantry to talk, alone, where they had first met.

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re all right, because I know you’re not,” she said, pulling him down onto a bench. “We don’t even have to talk about it, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to give you a moment before we head back to Skyhold.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, hunched forward with his arms on his legs.

Dorian closed his eyes when he felt her hand at the base of his skull, her cool fingers brushing through the short hairs there. He turned his hand over palm-up on his lap and her other hand quickly filled it, twining their fingers together. Minutes passed in silence.

“You know,” she said quietly, resting her chin on his shoulder. Talia was so comfortable touching people. He wondered if it was a Dalish thing, or a  _Talia_  thing. If she liked someone, she touched them in some way. In this position she was practically embracing him. He realized that she must care for him very much. “I’m feeling a little betrayed, Dorian.” Her tone was gentle, playful.

“Oh? How so?”

“All that flirting. I was starting to feel a little special, only to have my hopes dashed.” She squeezed his fingers, her other hand sliding down his spine before it fell away completely.

Playing towards his vanity, how clever of her. “You’re more than a little special, my dear Inquisitor,” he said earnestly, tilting his head to look at her. He quirked his mouth into a wry smile. “But my own preferences aside, we both know I never stood a chance.”

She blinked, looking surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, you don’t think I’ve seen the way you look at Solas? Like he’s the most brilliant thing in the room?” He wrinkled his nose. “I had hoped you would have noticed that it’s just the light reflecting off that shiny head of his, but I suppose there’s no accounting for  _taste_.”

Talia snorted, pulling away. She tried to pull her hand back but he kept a tight hold on her fingers. “Well then why the flirting?”

“Because it makes you smile, and you’re cute when you blush,” he said.

She smiled, and blushed, as if his words had willed it so.

Dorian tapped the tip of her nose, smirking. “See? Exactly like that.” He rose to his feet, pulling her up by the hand he still had tightly in his grip. “I find myself feeling much better. Best not to keep the others waiting.”

* * *

It was very late by the time any of them were willing to get some sleep. Alcohol had been passed around a few hours earlier, and Rainier had to pry Sera loose from Talia and carry her physically over his shoulder to get her to bed.

Alone for the moment, Dorian reached out to smooth the ex-Inquisitor’s ruffled hair, which was now riddled with tiny braids on half her head. Frowning, he set to work on pulling them out. Talia just laughed. “I almost forgot those were there,” she said.

“You look absolutely ridiculous. I can’t let you go to bed like this, not in good conscience.” His fingers slid through the pale strands with ease; he had only had a drink or two, not even enough to give him more than a slightly warm buzz.

“Speaking of bed,” she said carefully. “I think I need to be using my own tonight. To avoid any awkward questions.”

Dorian had been expecting this the moment Sera and Rainier had walked through the door. He wondered, briefly, if the nightmares would come back with her gone. “I know.”

“Will you be all right?”

He huffed indignantly. “I think I can manage, thank you.” His fingers teased out a knot in her hair. The braid got sloppier as Sera got drunker. “What about you?”

Talia gave him a crooked smile, no doubt influenced by Sera’s unruly presence. “I think sleeping in my own room won’t kill me.”


	9. Of Threats Realized

She was in the forest, and Talia knew that she was dreaming.

But there was no sign of her shadow, the wolf at her back. Instead there were snakes. Not the large black serpent that kept her safe, but tiny vipers poised to strike. At first there were only a few, and she slipped around them easily as she cut a path through the trees.

Then they were  _everywhere_.

Small, vibrantly colored bodies hung from the trees, slithering across the ground, coiled upon rocks. She froze, and they watched her with lidless eyes. Waiting.

A wolf howled, and she startled awake.

Heart pounding in her ears, Talia woke with a gasp and shot up in bed. Her hand flew to her chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her shift. It took her nearly a moment too long to realize that she wasn’t alone.

A figure swathed in black was in her room, a glittering silver mask covering its face styled to look like a snake baring its fangs. He held a curved dagger in his hand, and had been poised to strike when her sudden waking startled him into freezing for just a moment.

Their eyes met as if the world had slowed around them. It returned to normal as she sprang to action. She swept her hand to strike his wrist, knocking the dagger from his grasp before he could react. She kicked the blankets from her legs, cursing them as she twisted to roll away from her would-be assassin. Grabbing the sheets to pull herself, hands slid along her calves before finally locking around her ankles. Talia kicked wildly, breaking free long enough to throw herself off the far side of the bed.

She landed hard on the stump of her left arm, pain shooting through her that left her breathless. Gasping, she willed herself to her feet, wishing desperately for some kind of weapon. Her assailant had recovered his blade and was circling the bed. Talia leaped at him with a snarl, catching him around the waist and sending them both toppling to the floor.  She was dimly aware of a sharp pain in her side as she tried to fumble for the dagger, but his fingers were like steel around the hilt. His other hand closed around her throat and he shoved her away, rolling her onto the floor and baring down on top of her. She clawed at his wrist, writhing and trying to break free, but she was trapped.

Then she heard the sound of a blade piercing deep into flesh, the scrape of steel against bone. Her eyes went wide as the body above her gurgled and went slack. It was dragged off of her, and suddenly there were kind hands lifting her to her feet, helping her sit on the edge of her bed as she realized she was shaking from fear and adrenaline.

Cole stood in front of her, looking at the man’s body on the floor.

“Snakes in the dark, stalking, slithering, seeking. He didn’t know you but he needed to kill you. He had his reasons, coins passed under a table, a family at home, hungry. But he made his choice, I killed him first.” Cole blinked, tilting his head just enough to meet her eyes. “You’re hurt.”

He crouched down in front of her, a hand going to her side. She followed his hand with her eyes and saw blood on her shift. Seeing it brought the pain back and she winced. But it was just a cut, an accident when she knocked the man off balance.

“Just a scratch, I’ve certainly had worse,” she told him, trying to smile but she feared it was more of a grimace. “Thank you, Cole. If it wasn’t for you, I’d…”

“He told you to leave.”

Talia’s jaw went slack. “What?”

“Hurting, helpless, he worries about her safety, even as he threatens it himself. He wants her to be happy during the time she has left. That they  _all_  have left.” Cole wrung his hands. “I wanted to help him. Help you. You’re both hurting so much, I don’t understand why when there’s so many choices.”

“Did Solas send you?” she asked him, feeling like a fist was clenched around her heart.  _Why?_

“Yes.”

She remembered words that she overheard earlier, spoken between Dorian and Thom. “Is he in Nevarra, Cole?” she pressed, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.

“Not anymore,” he said, and she swore he sounded sad.

Her heart sank, but she wasn’t surprised. Even if he was, she doubted he’d let her find him no matter how hard she tried.

“He lies to himself, but he misses you,” Cole offered, as if that could make her feel better. His face fell as Talia sighed. “That didn’t help, I’m sorry. It’s still hard to hear you properly, it hurts if I look too long.”

She touched his elbow as he stood again, fidgeting. “It’s fine. I don’t think that’s a hurt you can help, Cole.”

He ducked his chin, nodding.

Talia drew in a sharp breath as she stood, trying to ignore the sharp pain from the cut in her side and the deep ache left in her neck from the assassin’s steely fingers. “We need to wake Dorian, he needs to know what happened.”

“Quiet. Secret. Threats hidden under polite words. How serious is he? Don’t tell her or the smiles will fade. Let her be furious later if only she will keep smiling  _now_.” Cole paused, twisting his fingers together with a sigh. “He knew.”

“What are you saying, Cole?” She felt cold. “Did Dorian know that someone was trying to hurt me? Did he  _lie_  to me?”

Cole’s head tilted just enough so she could see the pale eyes behind blonde hair. He didn’t blink. “Only by omission.”

The words, words that had been spoken by Solas, struck her like a physical blow.

“I’m sorry,” Cole said quickly, shaking his head and clutching her hand. “That wasn’t the right thing to say. That only hurt you more.”

She tore her hand free and stormed to her door. “How could he?”

“Wait!” Cole cried out, hurrying after her. He was at her heels as she started down the hall. “He was only trying to help!”

“By  _lying_  to me?  _Hiding_  things from me?” she demanded, loudly, not stopping.

“He was going to tell you, he was just worried.” Cole picked at the back of her shift but she shrugged him away. He didn’t dare try to restrain her, it was rare that he touched anyone at all.

Talia flung the door to Dorian’s bedroom open without bothering to knock, anger driving her forward, not letting her think, too busy  _reacting_. He wasn’t in bed, but sitting in a chair reading by candlelight. His eyes were wide as he looked over the top of his book, setting it aside and rushing to his feet.

“Talia?  _Cole_? What’s going on?” he asked, startled and confused by the sudden intrusion. Then his eyes swept over her, and found the dark red stain on her shift. “You’re bleeding! What happened?”

“Someone just tried to kill me,” she spat, dragging her fingers through her hair to pull the wild strands out of her eyes. “And you  _knew_  this might happen, didn’t you?”

He gaped, frozen there with guilt. His mouth moved but no words came out. Talia realized, as she waited for him to find his words, that he looked  _exhausted_. Had he slept at all? Dorian’s face fell, and he hid his eyes behind a hand, rubbing his forehead.

“I did,” he admitted quietly. “Magister Adrius made a thinly veiled threat against your safety,  _that_  is why I broke his nose and he gave me a black eye.” He sighed, lowering his hand. “I wasn’t sure how serious the threat was, if it was all bluster to try and keep me in check. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“But you  _lied_  to me. Kept this from me…” Angry tears blurred her vision. “Why do all of you keep _lying_  to me?”

“You were finally smiling again, I couldn’t bear to take that away–”

“You should have trusted me with the truth! I–”

“You lied too,” Cole said, his emotionless voice cutting between them as he touched Talia’s shoulder.

“The wolf’s words bear warnings, ‘It isn’t safe for you there.’ She wills the words away, wanting to stay, wishing. You hoped he was lying, but you knew he was telling the truth. You need to leave.”

Talia covered her mouth with her hand, squeezing her eyes shut. Cole was right. Of course he was right. She had ignored Solas’s warning because she didn’t want to leave Dorian. Dorian hadn’t told her of the threat against her life because he wanted her to be happy. They were both fools, and if they had been honest with each other, this might have been prevented. The two warnings together would have been too much for them to ignore.

A warm hand stroked her cheek and her eyes flew open, lifting to meet Dorian’s. He had moved closer, but she hadn’t heard. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth.”

She tried to swallow back her tears, but they slipped down her cheeks anyway. Her anger had died in her chest, and now it was replaced with grief. She was going to have to leave Tevinter –and Dorian– behind. “I’m sorry too.” Her bottom lip trembled as she bit back a sob. “I don’t want to go.”

He pulled her roughly into a hug, his hand on the back of her neck tucking her head underneath his chin. “I don’t want you to go either,” he said, his voice thick. “But I can’t work while you’re here, not with the other Magisters using your safety to collar me into inaction. And there are other people who need you.  _Thedas_  needs you to stop Solas, to talk some sense into him,  _something_. You can’t do that locked away here with me.”

Dorian sighed, pulling away to hold Talia at arm’s length. Cole had gone, closing the door behind him. “Let’s get you patched up, and get some sleep. Will you stay with me, one more time before you go?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this so far. This started out as a jumbled idea and has turned into a lot more than I was expecting.


	10. Of Farewells

When Talia finally fell asleep, nestled against Dorian’s side, Solas was waiting for her in the Fade. His presence sharpened her awareness of the dream, as it always did. She wondered, briefly, if this was what it was like for mages.

The furrow of his brow relaxed as soon as he saw her, unable to hold back a relieved sigh. “Cole found you in time.”

There we so many things she wanted to say, but knew she shouldn’t, not if she wanted him to stay there with her. “He did. Thank you,” she said, smiling despite the ache in her chest.

He was closer than he’d been before. She imagined rushing into his arms, kissing him, holding him close. Solas was  _so close_  yet the distance seemed insurmountable. The silence between them hung heavy with unspoken words. His hands unclasped from behind his back and for a moment she dared hope that he might reach for her. Arms raising briefly, for a fraction of a moment, they fell back to his sides to hang limply as he looked away.

“So is this what I need to do to get you to talk to me? Draw the attention of assassins?”

Solas’s head jerked back to look at her, frowning and shaking his head. “ _Vhenan_ …”

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I’m  _joking_ , Solas. Mostly.”

He sighed, but she saw the faint crinkling around his eyes, even as he forced his mouth into a thin line. “I cannot continue to let you distract me. You must keep  _yourself_  safe.”

“If I promise to be more careful, will you allow yourself to be distracted a little longer?”  _Creators_ , she missed him so much.

“Talia, please…” The ache in his voice only made her more hopeful.

“You already took the time to wait for me, to make sure I was safe,” she pressed, gently. “Can’t you spare a few more moments for me? I promise not to beg for more.”

Talia saw the moment his resolve fractured, when he took a step towards her and his arms reached for her. She went to him, gladly, willingly, letting herself be folded up in his arms. Dragging in a deep breath, she was struck by his familiar scent –even in the Fade– a soft blend of the ozone tang of magic, earth and the woods, and herbs. She could imagine the smell of fresh paint, ink and paper, old books, the smells that joined him in the rotunda. His breath was warm against her hair, and he nuzzled her face gently to urge her to look up at him.

Their eyes met, and his face inched closer to hers, noses brushing almost teasingly. “It would be kinder to both of us if we didn’t,” he murmured, his breath on her lips.

“That didn’t stop us before,” she said.

“I cannot do this again,  _Vhenan_. I  _can’t_.” His voice was thick, nearly choking on the words. “This has to be the last time I see you like this.”

Talia bit back the urge to argue, to tell him she would find him no matter what he said. That she would still try to change his mind. None of those words would help. Right now the only thing that mattered to her was his lips mere inches from hers. “Then make it worth it,” she breathed.

With a faint, barely-audible growl, Solas seized her lips with his own. He was bruising, desperate, one hand sliding up the back of her neck to tangle in her hair. She pressed back just as desperately, knowing in the pit of her stomach that this might very well be their last kiss. How fitting, that it should be in the Fade, where their first had been.

Talia opened her mouth for him as his tongue teased her bottom lip, a silent request. A quiet moan escaped her, which he answered with his own, pulling her tightly against him. Then suddenly he withdrew, tilting his chin down and pressing their foreheads together, taking in a shuddering breath as he avoided her searching mouth.

“I need to go,” he said, closing his eyes.

“Stay with me,” she begged. As much as it hurt to do it, she removed herself from his arms, taking hold of his hand. “If kissing me is too much to bear, then just talk to me. About anything. Tell me a story, something about your journeys in the Fade, you loved that. Just stay with me until I wake up.”

His eyes opened slowly, searching her face. Was he looking for some hidden motive? He wouldn’t find one, all she wanted was to be with him, if only for this last night. His expression softened. “You promised that you wouldn’t beg for more than a few moments,” he said, with the barest ghost of a smile.

“Can you forgive a lie made in desperation?” She tugged beseechingly on his arm, lowering herself to the ground to sit and willing him to join her.

After a moment’s hesitation he sat, closer than Talia had dared to hope. They sat cross-legged, facing each other like they used to years ago when he was teaching her how to read. The reminder made her heart ache. She made to let go of his hand, but he held it tight, resting their clasped hands on his knee.

“Of course I forgive you. I suppose it is only fair.”

The unspoken hung between them. In the contest of lies, he was the clear winner. All of this pain, hardship, separation… it was his doing. How could she even compete?

“Tell me a story,” she said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled at her, and for a moment she could imagine they were back at Skyhold. That they were still, truly, together. “Of course, my love.”

* * *

Dorian had escorted them himself out of Minrathous, across the bridge that connected the city to the mainland. He wanted to be certain, to see with his own eyes, that Talia made it out safely. He would feel even better once she was out of Tevinter entirely, but getting her out of the city at least made him breathe easier. The four of them –Cole stuck with them, despite Sera’s loud complaints– had the best horses Dorian could buy on such short notice.

Rainier and Sera were happy enough to take Talia with them, though Sera complained that she had barely washed the dust off of herself before being forced back onto the road.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right in Kirkwall?” Dorian asked her, for probably the twentieth time. When had he turned into such a mother hen?

Talia laughed as she dismounted from her horse to say their farewells. The large golden locket that hung from her neck caught the sun (“Promise me you’ll never take that off.” “I promise, Dorian.” “I mean it.” “Yes,  _mother_.”) and her eyes were already shining with unshed tears. He could feel his own throat growing tight, Maker help him he didn’t want to cry in front of Rainier and Sera.

The others didn’t dismount. They actually went a little way down the road to give them some space, much to Dorian’s relief. Talia glanced at them, then back at Dorian, and he suspected she was feeling the same way.

“I can’t make any promises, but it has to be safer than here, right?” she asked, trying to sound lighthearted. She did a fair job, Dorian had to admit, but he could see right through her. “Varric has that house set aside for me, and he’s the  _Viscount._  If anyone has connections with the City Guard, _he_  does.”

“I’m certain being friends with the Captain has its benefits as well,” Dorian added with a smirk.

“Exactly. And Sera said that Dagna has been working on some kind of prosthetic so that I can hold a bow again.” The excitement in her voice at  _that_  was enough to make his smirk turn into a real smile. “And Kirkwall’s a big city, and if I know Solas he’ll have contacts among the elves in the alienage. I can do so much more there.”

“I know you can. I’m sure with enough time you’ll be trying to steal the title of Champion away from Hawke.”

She cuffed his shoulder, which made him laugh. “I think I’ve had enough of titles. Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor… I think I’m just ready to be Talia Lavellan.”

Dorian had had enough of pleasantries. He reached out and pulled Talia into a tight embrace, squeezing his eyes shut as his throat clenched and tears threatened to spill. Her hand held the back of his head and she pressed her face into the side of his neck. She was trembling, and the sound of her first choked sob destroyed his already-weak resolve. Pulling her even closer, he blinked to free the tears that were trapped under his eyelids.

“Come with us,” she said, sniffling, voice thick. “You don’t actually want to be a  _magister_ , do you?”

He swallowed, and couldn’t help but give a weak chuckle. “We all must bear the burdens of our titles, I fear.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said, the cracking of her voice making his chest ache. “Promise me you’ll come visit.”

“I will do my utmost to escape,” he promised.

“I’ll miss you,” she repeated.

Dorian swallowed past the lump in his throat, but his voice still came out thick. “I’ll miss you too. But I’m not so far, not really. Just open that locket and you can hear my voice whenever you want.”

“Like magic,” Talia said with forced levity.

“Like magic,” he agreed, giving her a small squeeze before pulling away enough to look down at her.

She looked up at him, searching his face with red, watery eyes. Even her nose was pink from crying. The hand that was still on the back of his neck moved to touch his cheek, her thumb smearing the tears there. She gave him a small, crooked smile. “You look terrible,” she teased.

“Speak for yourself. Your nose is all red.”

She took her hand away from his face, using her knuckles to try and rub her tears away. She gave a little sigh. “They’re waiting,” she said.

“Yes, they are. You should go, while you still have most of the day ahead of you. Put as much distance between you and Minrathous as you can before nightfall.” Dorian let her go, but then reached out to cup his hand behind her head so he could plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “Go. The world may not still need the Inquisition, but it still needs its Herald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end, everyone. I've mentioned this before, that I hadn't really planned out much for this when I started it, but thank you everyone who read and enjoyed this little fic of mine.
> 
> I have a Tumblr at <http://onadacora.tumblr.com> if you want to keep up with what I'm working on, or just say hi or whatever. :)


End file.
